


A Marriage of Whimsy

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 15:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: "I can't believe you talked me into this."





	A Marriage of Whimsy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotPersephone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/gifts).

“I _can’t believe_ you talked me into this,” she nearly grumbles, her body covered in intricate ivory lace.

When he insisted on picking her dress, she _expected_ something ostentatious and ornate, but this was nearly flamboyant. Her hands smooth the fabric of the drop waist gown as her eyes critically dart around her reflection in the full length trifold mirror.

He simply smiles from his place behind her and laces his arms around her waist, resting his hands atop hers, stilling them. Hannibal eases his head onto her bare sun-kissed shoulder and shamelessly admires her in the mirror.

“We didn’t get to do this before,” he says softly, and she can see the tears reflected in his eyes.

Bedelia turns her head to look at the real Hannibal instead of his reflection. The gravity of his words holds them in place. “I know,” she concedes, aware of how much this experience means to him. “I just worry-”

“My whimsy, yes,” he finishes before she can remind him again. “But we are home now, where no one can harm us.”

There is no music, no string quartet to mark her entrance into the immaculately decorated dining room, an even mix of her subtle elegance and his masculine extravagance.

His hand is warm in hers, almost sweaty, and she realizes with surprise that Hannibal may in fact be nervous. She gently squeezes his fingers in reassurance. 

They greet the local justice of the peace, who so rarely did house calls, but would gladly agree for the right price. Even if he couldn't understand why two people would get elaborately dressed just to stand in their own home. 

The vows are short and simple, but she doesn't expect her heart to clench when she hears her name on his lips, hears his promise to _her, not _an alternative identity_. _

Bedelia does not consider herself a sentimental person. In fact, she has found the emphasis on weddings in the past to be gaudy and juvenile. And yet...

Hannibal's lips are soft and gentle when the connect with hers and his thumb gently smooths away a tear running down her cheek. She hadn't realized she was crying. 

He has called her his wife for _years_, and yet, as he looks into her eyes and tries the words on his lips, it feels entirely different. 

She tilts her head, blonde hair mixed with white-grey highlights spilling over her shoulders, and smiles softly, pulling him closer for another kiss. 


End file.
